


I'll Wait

by dearcst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Backstory, Heaven, Kind of Character death but not really, M/M, Mystery (ish), Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 01:32:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1963911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearcst/pseuds/dearcst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What are you doing, Castiel?"<br/>"I'm looking for Dean."<br/>"He's right there."<br/>"That's not Dean."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Wait

                “Castiel? Do you want some more macaroni?” his mother asked him and there was a bowl in front of him. Something felt different.

                Nonetheless, Castiel nodded, hair flopping around. His eyes were wide and flashing around the room. Castiel shrugged to himself, unable to find it in himself to care about this tiny difference that he couldn’t name. It was fun, in a way, like he was a doll inside a dollhouse. Still, he didn’t know how he poofed from real-world to this-world. The macaroni tasted stale and stretchy, but he smiled and nodded approvingly at his mom.

                His legs kicked, not yet tall enough to reach the ground. The bowl of macaroni seemed to refill itself; his stomach seemed unsatisfied. Castiel stood and walked around the room, hopping in one step and jumping into another. He opened a door and found himself outside, a long stretching road as far as his eye could see. He skipped back inside and sat in front of his toys, pulling out some blocks to build something fun.

                The sun never seemed to set, it never seemed to rise. Castiel’s eyes followed the trees outside the window that never looked like they moved and danced in the wind, and just as he thought that, the trees swayed in the wind. Castiel felt a smile tug at his lips and he went back to building with the blocks. He always used to get frustrated when he ran out of a certain type of block, but it seemed that whatever block he needed was just _there_. He smiled wider.

                And when playing with blocks proved to be tedious, Castiel stood up again and wandered around the house for something else to do. He vaguely wondered where his mom went, and just as the thought flew away, his mom appeared again, crossing the doorway and going into the laundry room. Castiel ran after her, wearing just socks and sliding on the wood floor. He giggled.

                “Mom! Mom, can I go to Dean’s house?” he asked excitedly his mom smiled at him.

                “Sure, sweetie,” she said. She sounded like a radio speaker. “Get some shoes on and I’ll drive you over, all right?”

                Castiel nodded quickly and ran to his room as fast as he could. He tugged on a small pair of sneakers and ran back to his mom’s room; when he opened the door, he found Dean’s house instead of his mom’s room. Before he could be confused, he saw a boy greet him at the door, grinning and saying something like _Hey Cas!_ but it wasn’t… It wasn’t _Dean_.

                “You’re not my Dean,” Castiel said.

                Not-Dean looked confused and said something in protest. Castiel opened the door behind him again and found himself back home—well, not-home home. He wondered where his mom was, and then, not-mom was standing in front of him. Something clicked in Castiel’s mind that something wasn’t right here.

                “Is something wrong, sweetie?”

                Castiel looked up at his mom, and realized belatedly that it wasn’t _her_ either. Her hair was the same shape, same color, her face was the same, she was the same height, her eyes were the same color, but they didn’t shine. They weren’t _real_.  Her voice didn’t sound real either. It wasn’t his mom, the same way the boy back there wasn’t Dean.

                Instead of answering, Castiel ran out the door and stared down the stretching road. He stood on the road feeling cold, but the road seemed more real than what he had seen back there, so he walked. He looked around, the trees passing him looked like dancers frozen in time, stuck in the same position and just yearning to dance. The sky looked like a mix of all colors. At least it was real.

                On the side of the road, he saw a different not-Dean running around. He turned to Castiel and shouted some kind of encouragement to come play, but Castiel shook his head. This Dean’s hair was a shade lighter, closer to real-Dean’s hair, but his eyes were still too dull. Castiel walked past the puppet and followed down the road.

                Castiel didn’t know how long it was he’d been walking for, but the road was unending. He felt his heart wilt like a dying flower at the thought that he may never find Dean. Another not-Dean stood at the side of the road and waved and called his name. Not-Dean’s eyes were a shade lighter, but that didn’t make them any less fake. Castiel sighed and looked at the road. He walked for a long time, yet his feet never felt tired. He didn’t know if it was the determination to find someone real or if it was because he was fake, too, just like everyone else.

                Another Dean was standing by the road again, and Castiel didn’t have to look twice to see that he was too tall to be Dean. He didn’t have the vibrant, glowing color in his eyes. Castiel blinked and not-Dean’s eye color changed hues.

                And suddenly, Castiel looked up. He was in a garden.

                “What are you doing, Castiel?” asked a voice behind him. A _real_ voice.

                Castiel turned around and looked up.  It was a bright man with brown hair that fell past his ears. Castiel smiled happily at finding someone that was real. He didn’t think to answer the question asked until the man knelt down to be eyelevel with him.

                “I’m looking for Dean,” he answered simply.

                The man snapped and another not-Dean appeared next to him.

                “He’s right there.”

                “That’s not Dean.”

                “What’s wrong with him?”

                Castiel looked at not-Dean again. He absently realized that he looked identical to Dean, but… There was just _something_ that wasn’t right. He didn’t look right. He looked twisted, incomplete. Castiel shrugged, unable to answer.

                “It isn’t him,” he said again. “Where is Dean?”

                “He isn’t going to be here for a while,” the man told him and gestured for Castiel to follow.

                Castiel followed closely behind the man, his head just barely reaching the man’s hip. The man guided him around the beautiful flowers and trees, over the grass and past a fountain and up to a window. He stepped aside and Castiel rose on his toes to be tall enough to see out the window. The man picked Castiel up and held him high enough to see.

                He saw Dean and Dean’s mom (holding Sammy) sitting on his couch watching TV.

                “He can’t come until it’s his time to. You’re going to have to wait a while. These are Deans we’ve tried to make from your memories, but apparently he isn’t right after all,” the man sounded disappointed.

                “Neither is my mom,” Castiel informed, his eyes following Dean as he played with the remote and Dean’s mom as she took the remote from him. “But it took me a little to notice her.”

                The man nodded forlornly. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

                “When can Dean come?” Castiel asked. _Dean got up from the couch and his dad picked him up and spun him around, putting him back down on the ground_.

                “He’s not due for… a long time. You were young.”

                “Due?” Castiel asked his eyes twinkling in innocence and naivety.

                The man hesitated and the image in the window changed to a dark night _. Rain fell like sheets and thunder struck in a powerful hand, shaking the ground to its core. It was just outside Castiel’s house. Cars sped up and down the street occasionally._ Castiel vaguely wondered why he was watching this until he saw himself emerge from his home _._

_“Castiel! Come back inside!” his mother yelled from the house, pulling her sweater  tighter to make up for the lack of warmth._

_Castiel teetered and ran out, spinning around in the rain. It was cold, cool and refreshing, filling his body with a certain tingling feeling that he didn’t get too often. He giggled and jumped up, feet slipping on landing, but he didn’t frown. He got back up and turned around to face his mom, a huge silly grin on his face._

_His mom smiled softly albeit herself, and ran out to meet him. “Come back inside now. You’ve had your fun.”_

_In a sense of a game, Castiel turned around and laughed as he ran around. He threw his gaze back at his mom whom now looked irritated and repeated for him to stop playing around. Castiel laughed and ran faster. He didn’t mean to run into the street._

_The car came out of nowhere, breaks screeching and tires screaming. The car stopped just a second late and Castiel was sent three meters back, falling on the gravel, frail and motionless._ He heard his mom scream his name one last time before the image stopped and it turned back to Dean on the couch with his mom and Sammy.

                Castiel was quiet for a moment.

                “So I’m not… Alive?” he asked, his voice still light, uncomprehending that this was a dark matter.

                “Yes,” the man answered, “Four years old is a sad age to leave that world.”

                “So when Dean comes, he’ll be big! And tall! Like you!” Castiel wiggled around in the man’s grip in happiness, thinking of Dean when he will arrive. It would be a while though. “I’ll wait,” he said, mostly to himself.

                The man didn’t smile, he seemed to have the same face on like a mask forever. “You might be big, too,” he answered. “Here, you keep growing until you’re content with your age. For most people, that’s mid-twenties, though some people do stop growing up at eight or fifteen.”

                “I want to grow up to be like Dean!” Castiel declared.

                The man looked pensive. “He may not remember you,” he confessed. “He’s young now.”

                “Me too,” Castiel argued, “And I’ll _always_ remember Dean. We’re best friends!”

                The man changed the topic.

                “Since your Heaven isn’t making you feel happy as it should, you’re welcome to stay here with me, in the Garden.”

                “Okay!” Castiel grinned. “We’ll be best friends, too! And we’ll wait for Dean to come together!”

                The man nodded.

                Castiel asked, “Well, what’s your name?”

                “Gabriel.”

 

~~*~~

                In the passing days, Castiel spent his time watching Dean.  He was horrified when a man with glowing, yellow eyes approached Sammy’s crib and then the house catch on fire. He called Gabriel over as fast as he could, arms flailing and telling him to help Dean’s mom. Gabriel told him he couldn’t, that it was her time, and that this was all planned and that it must play out.

                After that, Dean didn’t look as happy, and he was learning to shoot. Castiel thought that Dean would be happier if he came up with him, but he quickly dispelled the thought because it was selfish. Castiel was seven years old now, growing up because Dean was. Gabriel, Castiel found out, was actually kind a jerk sometimes and pulled pranks on him.

                And one day, Castiel realized that Gabriel was right. Dean started to ask about Castiel less and less and then it stopped altogether. Castiel realized Dean forgot about him. It was odd, that the first actual real feeling he’d had since he’d been in Heaven was heartbreak. At first Castiel felt angry with Dean, that even though he had died, Dean didn’t remember him. He stopped watching him every day, tending to the flowers and the trees instead until he couldn’t help himself and peeked out the window that he was tall enough to see out of on his own now. Dean was asleep. Gabriel found out and tried to cheer him up. It worked a little.

                Spending so much time in the Garden, Castiel realized something in him was changing. Gabriel saw it, too, after a while.

                “You’re… Developing Grace,” Gabriel said as if he couldn’t believe his own words. “I’ve never heard of it… Somehow, you’re becoming an angel.”

                “Like you?” Castiel asked, looking down at himself.

                Gabriel chuckled softly. “Not exactly. I’m an archangel, which is a little different.”

                “Oh,” Castiel said, disappointed. “Not like you, then.”

                “No, it’s really similar,” Gabriel said hastily, not wanting to make Castiel frown. “Really, it is.”

                Castiel allowed himself to smile. “Oh.”

                After that, Gabriel showed him what it meant to be an angel, how to use his newfound powers. Castiel had little time to watch Dean from the window. They were both sixteen now. Over time, Castiel found it in himself to forgive Dean for forgetting him. It wasn’t his fault. Time moved so quickly the more years that passed, rushing past twenty, rushing into twenty-six when he found Sam at Stanford. It was fascinating, watching Dean and Sam kill evil, and just as Castiel’s Grace was fully developed, his emotions dwindled. Dean was more of an interest than something he loved.

                Dean was sent to Hell.

                Something poked and pricked inside Castiel.

                “I thought you said… He would come here,” Castiel said carefully.

                Gabriel pursed his lips. “He made a deal.”

                “So? Can’t you just bring him here anyways? I thought you—You _told_ me I would see him again some day!”

                “Castiel, there’s nothing I can do. Nothing anyone can.”

                Castiel felt like smashing the window that now just barely filtered the screams of the depths of Hell. Something flared up inside him and he wanted to rip out every rose in the Garden. He wanted to bury himself because it wasn’t fair. He didn’t though. No matter if he wanted to. He was still, frozen and etched in ice. It melted.

                “What about me?”

_~~*~~_

_Who are you?_

_I’m Castiel._

_No, I mean what are you?_

_I’m an Angel of the Lord._


End file.
